Orpheus in the Labyrinth
by Belladonna Lee
Summary: Implied DMHP. Epilogue to The Thing with Feathers. The war didn't end; it drags on for more than half a decade. After staying away from Hogwarts for years, Harry revisits the home he loved and reunites with a certain blond who once shared his longing for the sky.


Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

A/N: This is the epilogue to _The Thing with Feathers, _which is a part of the _Muses _cycle.

**Orpheus in the Labyrinth**

Heavy fog enveloped the land and lent an aura of mystery to the mountainside. In the forsaken courtyard of Hogwarts where weeds and tall grass reigned, Harry Potter lay a bouquet of white lilies at the bottom of the tower. The tweet of birds persisted in a distance that might be near or far; the delicate fragrance of lilies smelled all the more transient in the early spring air. How long had it been since he left the home he loved? He had stopped counting once he reached his twentieth birthday.

The enchanted castle was abandoned some years ago and allowed to fall into ruins, its magic waning. For a long time he had stayed away from Hogwarts, fearing to return to a place where memories haunted the grounds and corridors. When he looked up at the castle, memories he had locked away in his chest became ever so vivid and ever so bittersweet.

Biting his lower lip, he whipped out his wand and cast a detection charm around the castle. The charm informed him that only one other person was within the vicinity. With a pang, he wished he was still in possession of the Marauder's Map, which he had lost during this long journey of his, among other things.

After he cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself, he slipped into the castle proper, taking care not to disturb the dust and cobwebs. Those noisy portraits he recalled from his youth were gone; nothing but blank walls stared back at him. Several windows were broken from the outside, and he was careful not to step on the glass fragments littering the floor. The interior of the castle was worse than he thought; decay and disuse set in like a disease. At least it appeared that some of the defensive spells were still in place outside the castle.

Following the familiar path that he had time and time again walked upon in the past, he went up to the Gryffindor tower. At the entrance, the portrait of the Fat Lady was replaced by an empty picture frame. Stricken with sudden sadness, he placed his hand on the wall in search of the castle's heartbeat, yet the cold stone neither whispered nor pulsated.

The atmosphere within the wizarding world had changed considerably since he left Hogwarts. In a surprising turn of event, Lord Voldemort's plan to seize the crown upon Albus Dumbledore's death was foiled by the Ministry of Magic and the Auror-turned-Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. The secret alliance between the Ministry and what remained of the Order of the Phoenix had, for the time being, restored some semblance of order and thwarted Voldemort's attempt to take over the magical community.

Once his melancholy resided into the background, Harry ventured forth to his next destination. Walking upon the trail a certain Slytherin prefect once trod many moons ago, he arrived on the rooftop of a certain tower, where a pair of foolish boys once attempted to monopolise the sky. The ashen sky and the half-crumbled parapet greeted his sight; no one was on the rooftop, not even a ghost. Embittered, he smiled wryly at himself. After all these years, what did he expect?

Hardening his resolve, he turned his back on the spectre of his youth and focused on what he came here for. When he came at last upon the spot where the Room of Requirement was located, he marvelled at the irony. He had left Hogwarts in order to search for the remaining horcruxes, not knowing that one of them had been slumbering inside the castle all this time. Nevertheless, the chase for this particular piece of Voldemort's soul was over. With the barest of a thought, he shook away the Disillusionment Charm and called upon the Room of Hidden Things.

Like an insect imprisoned in amber, the Room of Hidden Things exuded an aura of timelessness reminiscent of the ambience inside a century-old cathedral. In this necropolis disguised as a treasure trove, shelf after shelf of hidden objects ultimately forsaken and forgotten by their owners cluttered up much of the space, leaving only narrow pathways in between. The air, smelling of dust and mould and blood, made Harry cough. To find the ultimate prize in this enormous maze would be a daunting task; nonetheless, he had been prepared for a long time.

By the time Harry emerged from the room, victorious in his battle against the ill-reputed revenant, the fog had thinned. As the ornately carved door melded into the wall and disappeared, he tensed, the back of his neck tingling in alert. Someone was watching him in the shadow. Pretending he had sensed nothing amiss, he swallowed once and prepared for the fight-or-flight response.

The veil of the Disillusionment Charm fell away in the alcove to Harry's left, revealing a figure wrapped in black. Without a sound the figure moved forward into the dreary morning light, his wand raised. As soon as Harry saw the figure's face, he inhaled sharply. Blond strands that seemed wiry to the touch framed a pale, sharp visage marked by age and experience. Grey eyes, narrowed to the slightest of a degree, stared hard at him like those of a feral animal.

"What are you doing here?" The voice was as pleasant to the ear as Harry remembered, albeit a shadow deeper and a shade colder.

"I could ask you the same thing, Draco." As soon as Harry spoke his name, the man squinted at him, the wand in his hand never once wavered. Surmising the man must have suspected he was using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Harry Potter, he uttered the password that a certain Gryffindor and a certain Slytherin invented on a certain rainy day in the distant past. "I've lost the tie clip you lent me."

Eyes widened in disbelief, Draco Malfoy moved his mouth for several heartbeats in a struggle to speak. At length, he lowered his wand, the tension in him ebbing away while something akin to yearning took over his countenance. He attempted to smile, but he looked as though he was about to cry. "I've lost your scarf, so we are even." There was a pause. "You shouldn't be here."

Memories from another lifetime flooded back into Harry's consciousness as if the lock to the forbidden was forced open. "Neither should you," Harry said while putting down his wand. He studied Draco, who in turn studied him. His former classmate did not look as well as he had hoped; in fact, something more than physical weariness seemed to be eating away at his spirit. Briefly he wondered what Draco saw when he looked at him: the older self of his former rival, who no longer sported a pair of glasses on his face.

A small smile, tinted with much wistfulness, passed across Draco's lips, a smile that filled Harry with nostalgia. "It's not safe here. Let's go." Without ceremony he grabbed Harry by the wrist and led him down the deserted corridors.

Was Draco afraid that he would disappear as soon as he loosened his hold, Harry thought in bemusement, though he did not hate the gesture. The pressure on his arm was proof that Draco was indeed alive and was a mere step away from him. Countless questions crowded his head: why was he here, where had he been all these years, what had he been doing, what happened to him. Nevertheless, this was neither the right time nor the right place for queries; Death Eaters might intrude upon this little reunion of theirs any time soon.

When they reached the winding staircase, Draco let him go and walked on ahead. Keeping up his guard, Harry quickly followed Draco down the stairs. Down and down they went, with nothing but forlorn walls to witness a scene replayed from another lifetime. The sound of Harry's footfall resonated within the hollowed entrails of the castle, but not a single hint of a footstep could be heard from the blond, who moved as quietly as a gliding shadow.

Harry and Draco did not slacken their pace or their vigilance until they had passed beyond the gates of Hogwarts. The mist had dissipated as if scattered by the wind, leaving behind much moisture that dampened their shoes and the hems of their trousers. Taking hold of Harry's arm, Draco raised his wand and apparated.

Seconds later, Harry found himself in a crooked, narrow alley somewhere in the metropolis. The riot of noise unique to the city flowed into his ear from the sunlit entrance of the alley. He had little time to take in his surroundings, however, for Draco pulled him away from the light and into the dusky urban labyrinth. Left, right, straight ahead - Harry lost track of where they were after a while, though he had an inkling Draco was trying to lead possible pursuers astray.

A moment later, Harry and Draco left the maze behind and came upon a back door, which Draco opened using a charm. After passing through the bland staff-only corridor, they went through another door and entered what appeared to be a department store. As they navigated through the ivory maze composed of shelves and racks and displays, Harry felt the faintest of magic prickling his skin; he surmised Draco was tampering with the security system. How the pureblood wizard came to know about Muggle surveillance was another mystery Harry had yet to solve.

In the men's clothing department, Draco picked out several shirts and trousers from the rack, thrust the bundle into Harry's arms, and took him to the fitting room. Once the door was locked behind them, Harry dumped his burden onto the bench and cast a little charm of his own to make sure they would not be overheard. In the next second, he was forced against the wall. Startled, he raised his head to regard the other man, who was leaning over him with an agitated expression on his face.

"Why didn't you keep the Disillusionment Charm going when you were in front of the Room of Requirement?" Draco demanded, his low voice laced with a dangerous edge, another tell-tale sign of how much the once capricious prefect had changed. "If I were a Death Eater, you would've been caught or worse."

Harry winced, for Draco was right; he had been careless, even though he could not afford to. The only saving grace was that Voldemort would not find out about the incident unless he went to check on the status of the horcrux. "Sorry. I was careless back there."

The harshness etched upon Draco's visage softened. After heaving a sigh, the blond man pressed his forehead against Harry's as though weary in both mind and body. Taken by surprise, Harry tensed like a overstrung cat, but he dared not move. The man whose body was mere inches from his emitted warmth and a pleasant scent that awoke something in Harry. However different Draco might have become, the unique blend of cedar and musk was as distracting as Harry remembered.

In the recess of his mind, Harry recalled a certain wintry night on the rooftop beneath the starlit sky. A boy who was neither a child nor an adult had rested his forehead against his, claiming he was trying to read his mind.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked.

"If I ask you the same question, will you tell me everything?" Draco threw the question back at him, his warm breath brushing against Harry's lips like the softest of feathers.

_You know I wouldn't, _Harry thought bitterly. So deep into the well of beautified memories he had immersed himself that he had forgotten how devious the former Slytherin could be. Resigning himself to his fate, he gripped Draco's arm once and let go; it was the only reply he could give.

Letting out a chuckle, Draco took a step back, and the warmth was gone. When Harry looked upon Draco's visage once more, he saw not the older self of his former classmate, but a man who was at once familiar yet foreign. Blazing grey eyes, no longer reflecting the cerulean sky, burnt him like coals; thin lips parted as though they were on the verge of divulging a secret. In the end, however, Draco thought better of it. "No, it's nothing."

Yielding to pure instinct, Harry opened his mouth and spoke in Draco's stead. "I'm staying at this place right now." He told Draco his address. "You can find me there. If you want, I'll even make you tea." He flashed Draco a cheerful smile, all the while wondering how long it had been since he smiled a real smile at someone. "The non-alcoholic kind, of course."

A crooked smile appeared briefly on Draco's face before his expression became ever so distant. "Don't expect too much from me. I'm not good at keeping promises."

"Yeah, I would know, wouldn't I?" Harry remarked wryly, the pang in his chest spreading to the rest of his body. They had broken their promise to each other, albeit not by choice.

As though afraid of revealing more secrets than he already had, Draco turned away and gathered the clothes that lay forgotten on the bench. "We should go." With that he opened the door and returned the pile of clothes to the store proper.

A moment later, Harry and Draco emerged from the glass house of a department store and onto the busy main street. Like a parent fearful of losing sight of his child, Draco grabbed Harry by the hand and led him into the crowd. Harry shot a questioning look at the other man, though he did not complain. Draco's hand was calloused and cool; the ring on his finger dug into Harry's hand, and for one tantalising beat, Harry wanted to see what kind of ring it was.

When they reached the crossroads, Draco urged Harry to stand in front of him. As they waited for the light to turn, a pair of arms reached out from behind and enveloped Harry, who froze in surprise. "I'll see you later, Harry," Draco whispered into his ear, his voice as mellow as that of the whimsical boy he once knew. "Go now. Don't look back."

In the next second, those warm arms vanished as if they had dissolved into wisps of smoke. As soon as the signal turned, Harry felt a light push on his back, and propelled by momentum, he walked alongside other pedestrians to the other side of the street. Biting hard on his lip, he fought down the overpowering impulse to look over his shoulder for the dark figure that might have already disappeared beyond his sight. In brisk strides he rounded the corner and left the crossroads behind him.

Draco was living beneath the same sky as he was; that was all he needed to know. Even if Draco had no intention of honouring his promise, Harry still wanted to believe that one day he would see him again. For now, however, he must begin his search for the next horcrux. His mind made, Harry braced himself against the chill of the early spring morning and whispered to a certain someone whose scent lingered still on his clothes, "See you later, Draco."

* * *

_Finis._

A/N: This is the epilogue to _The Thing with Feathers_, though I end up making this into a one-shot instead. This one-shot takes place several months before _Muses by the Gaslight_. I've probably made Harry a bit more naive than he ought to be considering the danger he faces. And for some reason, Draco just wouldn't stop touching Harry. Anyway, thank you very much for reading.


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